Albert. Maria! my Maria!
Maria. Do not mock me.
This is my face—and thou—ha! who art thou?
Nay, I will call thee Albert!
[She falls upon his neck. Osorio leaps out from the nook with frantic wildness, and rushes towards Albert with his sword. Maria gapes at him, as one helpless with terror, then leaves Albert, and flings herself upon Osorio, arresting his arm.
Maria. Madman, stop!
Albert (with majesty and tenderness). Does then this thin disguise impenetrably [235]
Hide Albert from thee? Toil and painful wounds,
And long imprisonment in unwholesome dungeons,
Have marr'd perhaps all trace and lineament
Of what I was! But chiefly, chiefly, brother!
My anguish for thy guilt. Spotless Maria, [240]
I thought thee guilty too! Osorio, brother!
Nay, nay, thou shalt embrace me!
Osorio (drawing back and gazing at Albert with a countenance expressive at once of awe and terror). Touch me not!
Touch not pollution, Albert!—I will die!
[He attempts to fall on his sword. Albert and Maria struggle with him.
Albert. We will invent some tale to save your honour.
Live, live, Osorio!
Maria. You may yet be happy. 245